


you don't want to be alone

by iamleavingthisfandom



Series: I can take it if it's what I want to do [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Richie Tozier-centric, Sexual Content, waiter there's plot in my porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 04:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamleavingthisfandom/pseuds/iamleavingthisfandom
Summary: No matter how much it hurt when Eddie left without so much as mentioning nights like these, he could never say no to Eddie.





	you don't want to be alone

**Author's Note:**

> Well, you decide whether Eddie returns Richie's feelings and all that. I just wrote this angsty porn to cope with my own stuff. 
> 
> Also I wrote it to What You Know by Two Door Cinema Club, so if someone wants a kind-of-angsty-song-that's-still-a-bop, you can check that out. The title's a lyric from it.

He knew it couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t keep going like this.

He could never stop it, though.

He couldn’t stop it when Eddie smiled at him so sweetly from under his eyelashes when they were alone. He couldn’t stop it when he would lean over and kiss him, without ever asking if he should. Richie wouldn’t be able to say no anyway.

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing down Eddie’s neck, always mindful of leaving hickeys, because Eddie kept telling him not to, not on his neck. Eddie never asked for one, but he sometimes let Richie leave a few on his thighs. He held onto these few marks like a lifeline; they were the only proof he had that this was real, this wasn’t his imagination. 

Not like there was any other way for him to know. Eddie never mentioned nights like this one. 

He was in Richie’s bed, with his shirt lying on the floor by the bed along with his jeans, his eyes shut and hands gripping onto the sheets under them. Richie found out early on that Eddie’s thighs and his lower stomach were the “yes, more” areas, and took advantage of that, always eager to make Eddie feel as good as he could. With time, it got easier, he now knew his way around Eddie’s body, where he needed to kiss or press his fingers to or scrape his blunt nails to make him keen or moan. Eddie always insisted they put on music in the background so that, on the off-chance that Richie parents came home, they wouldn’t hear them. 

He was kissing and biting on Eddie’s thighs, his fingers digging into his skin just under the hipbones. 

“Shit,” Eddie was already a bit breathless and getting more so. “Open me up.” 

It always went sort of like this. Eddie would lead him through it, and Richie would follow, too afraid of stepping out of line, of doing something wrong and having Eddie never speak to him again; always too scared to think this was _a thing_ and then find out he was wrong. He got lube and a condom out of his nightstand, temporarily abandoning Eddie’s thighs, and poured some on his fingers. He always made sure that the lube warmed up on his fingers, trying to anticipate any potential problem that could disappoint Eddie and make him _leave_. Because, no matter how much him staying hurt, him leaving would be worse.

He put one finger to Eddie’s opening and waited for him to cant his hips before pushing a finger in, simultaneously reaching for a pillow to put under Eddie. He kept going slowly, carefully, until Eddie whispered for him to go faster, to add a finger, to keep going. Eddie was never shy about asking for what he wanted. 

So he did. He added a finger, stretching Eddie with two, scissoring them once they were in fully, and then trying to massage the prostate as he could. A hitched breath and a bitten-off moan suggested he was right there, but the moment didn’t last long. Eddie’s hand was on his forearm, strong and insistent. 

“Another,” was all he said, getting his hand back onto the sheets. Richie obliged. 

Soon, his three fingers were fucking into Eddie just as he liked it: harshly and fast. Richie was getting lost in the movement, in watching how Eddie’s stomach expanded and collapsed matching his fast breaths, in time with the barely audible over the music sounds he was making. He could never get enough of seeing Eddie like this. Just as he was going back to curling his fingers, Eddie stopped him.

“On your back, boxers off.” He did as instructed. Without any preamble, Eddie grabbed the condom, ripped the foil, and rolled the condom down Richie’s dick. He got some more lube and gave a few cursory strokes, all the while Richie was watching him in reverence. Eddie positioned himself over Richie and sunk down on him, and Richie couldn’t stop watching how his head was tilted backwards, his jaw catching the soft light of the desk lamp — the only source of light in the room. Eddie was biting his lip in concentration, and Richie wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to run his tongue against it instead, and hold him close. That wasn’t how this worked, though. Once Eddie started moving, Richie was enraptured. He could only hold on tightly onto his hips, not letting himself direct his movements, merely grounding himself. Eddie was gathering pace quickly, bracing himself on Richie’s chest to be able to go faster. Unable to control it, Richie thrust up into Eddie just as he was going down, getting a sweet sound out of him. From then on, he couldn’t stop, and kept moving his hips in a calculated way to get Eddie further into the haze. Watching Eddie’s face, scrunched up in pleasure, gave him enough control over himself to keep his thoughts on “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” Just as he started losing his wits, he heard a simple:

“Touch me.”

Richie wasted no time in wrapping his hand around Eddie’s cock, increasing the speed of his movements as time went. He started twisting his wrist once he heard the tell-tale moans, and soon, Eddie’s cum hit his hand and his chest. He kept going until the aftershocks subsided, and stopped to let Eddie catch his breath. After a few moments, he lifted himself off Richie, prompting an incoherent sound, and wrapped a hand around the base of his dick, pulling the condom up and off, tossing it into the trashcan next to the bed. He settled on his side next to Richie, jerking him fast until he was coming, too. Richie bit on his tongue not to say something stupid, something that had no place in this unless this became _a thing_. 

As he calmed down, he saw Eddie cleaning his hand with wet wipes, offering the pack to Richie once he was done. He took it, sitting up and cleaning himself off. Neither of them said anything while they were cleaning up or getting dressed. They never did. 

They never talked about what happened, either. Richie ached and wanted to talk, to say things that he had been feeling for longer than he could remember, but he wouldn’t let himself fuck this up. And no matter how much he wanted to pull Eddie into a hug and ask him to stay, he watched him wave and exit the room after a short “see you tomorrow.” He went to the window and lit a cigarette, still not putting his shirt on. Eddie was strolling down the street, taking Richie’s cracked heart with him, but Richie would let him.

He knew it wasn’t _a thing_ to Eddie, it was just something that happened. He knew it was because Eddie wanted to be with _someone_, anyone, not because there were feelings there. He knew he shouldn’t have let this happen the first time, and he knew he shouldn’t let this keep going. And yet he knew one more thing.

He could never say no to Eddie.


End file.
